The Weasley Family Cookbook
by Fabulous and Feminist
Summary: Molly writes her autobiography using recipes to create the cookbook of the Weasley family. Not DH compliant.
1. Chocolate Chip Muffins

**Chocolate Chip Muffins:**

**Ingredients:**

**1½ cups/ 220g plain flour**

**½ cup/ 70g granulated sugar**

**¼ tsp salt**

**3 tsp baking powder**

**160g/ 1 cup chocolate chips**

**1 egg**

**200ml/ 1 cup milk**

**1/3 cup/ 45g butter**

**Method:**

**Turn oven to 375 °F/ 190 °C/ Gas Mark 5.**

**Mix all the dry ingredients and add the chocolate chips.**

**Combine the rest of the ingredients and mix in: Stir, don't beat.**

**Bake for 20 minutes.**

_It was Hermione's idea that I write an autobiography. That's the 3rd version of that sentence that I've attempted and now that I've gotten this far, I don't know what to write about. I'm not a high powered woman, I'm a housewife who cooks too much and is slightly over bearing. I'm not pretty and my CV is appalling._

_The things that really matter to me are my family and cooking. Almost every major event in my life has been marked by a recipe. So, rather than writing my autobiography, I think this will be the Weasley cookbook._

_This is me. The me that people forget about when they see the apron and the figure. Rereading what I've written, it doesn't sound like me but I suppose that's just the way things are,_

_I suppose it would make most sense to start with my childhood and move on from there but I'm not going to write this in chronological order. It's not going to have any order actually. It's just recipes and the stories that go with them._

_The first thing I want to write about is the making of this book because that's really what began it all. I said I wasn't going to do it chronologically, I know, but I want to start with this._

I stood in the living room of Shell Cottage for a minute or so, immersed in memories. It hadn't changed drastically since Fleur had left and Hermione had moved in but you could see that she was gone. There were touches that showed her reign and gifts from France but the house had changed somehow. I'm not sure how to put it into words, there's just a different feel to the place.

Hearing Hermione and Bill's laughter, I followed the sound into the kitchen where Hermione stood; oven mitts covering her hands, flour in her hair and chocolate on her nose.

Bill was perched on the sideboard, his legs swinging, half a muffin in his hand. Seeing his mother he swallowed something and grinned impishly at me. Evidently he was aware of why I had been invited but wasn't telling. He jumped of the sideboard and stuffed the muffin into his mouth before giving me a hug.

Hermione beamed at me before coming and hugging me tightly. Before she opened her mouth to explain why she'd invited me over, Bill spoke.

"It was nice seeing you Mum but I've go to go and meet Charlie, I said I'd help him move into the Wales reserve so I'll leave you two to it." He grinned at us both and disapparated with the expected crack.

Hermione's eyes remained on the spot he had vacated for a few seconds before she turned back to me and put her hand on my elbow. Hermione smiled at me without a word for a while, listening to my chatter.

We sat in the kitchen at the table and looked around ourselves, each of us dwelling on private trains of thought until Hermione broke the silence.

"Have a muffin; they're quite good according to your son, nasty muffin thief. They're just out of the oven," She continued, pulling off the oven mitts. "How are you? I've had an idea." The last sentence burst out of Hermione's mouth as she let go of her surprise. I gave a small smile, used to Hermione.

"I think you ought to write an autobiography."

_And so this book began. Hermione didn't bother explaining herself to me, just took another muffin while I sat in shock. Goodness knows how she came up with the idea._

"Oh." I frowned slightly, sure it would work considering the fact that Hermione had thought of it but unsure whether she really wanted to write a book. "Well then."

We sat in silence until I came to my conclusion, absent-mindedly eating muffins.

"Are you sure people will read it?" I know I looked worried and Hermione hastened to reassure me.

"Positive. I know you can do this Molly." The young woman leant forward, her face eager.

"It's not like I have anything else to do…" I murmured more to myself than Hermione.

Not that it stopped Hermione squeezing the life out of me.

**An. I know it's really short but I'll try and do a longer one next time. Please review for me and Molly! Oh and I don't own Molly or the recipe. But I'm not sure where the recipe came from. **


	2. Heartbreak Cake

**Heartbreak Cake:**

**See this link: ****.com/recipe/recipe_?rid=250**

_I love Christmas. Not many people are religious in the wizarding world. Or maybe they are but they just don't talk about it. I don't know. Merlin only knows why I'm writing a book. Anyway, Christmas is special for me._

_I don't really believe in the Christian idea of Christmas (it's the virgin birth thing, puts me right off…and the whole labour in a stable, poor woman) but it doesn't mar it for me. For me, it's about being there for your family, about laughter and happiness and most importantly about love._

_And nobody ever suspects that I might have floated a few convenient pieces of mistletoe over a few shady corners or doorframes. The twins always seem to get the blame –although, generally, the blame constitutes of going off and getting plastered. Romantic? On some level, I guess they are._

_Anyway, this is meant to be an autobiography rather than my musings so I suppose I'd better get on with the story. I should warn you that this one Christmas will take several recipes. It was one of the biggest things we've ever experienced, joy and sorrow all mixed into one._

It was a snowy Christmas. The first after the war had ended. But for me, it was the first time we could laugh again. We had mourned long enough, we needed to continue with our lives and celebrate the fact that we were alive. It was what our friends would have wanted.

_I know that's a clichéd statement but sometimes the clichés are true. I think we all need a bit of cliché. _

Everyone felt so weird, so guilty. We had escaped the war almost entirely unscathed. Well, not unscathed but all alive. That was the main thing.

Harry looked the worst though, all of his moments we could feel the toll his life had taken him. There had been debate as to whether or not we ought to give him Dreamless Sleep Potions but it felt too risky. Everyone constantly had one eye on him, trying not to suffocate him but also so afraid that he might…well…join those we'd lost.

The world couldn't take that. We couldn't take that.

I was determined to do something…anything. I wanted to show him that life was worth living, in my own way. It might not be flashy, it's not super intelligent, it's not passionate and fiery. It's just me.

I wanted to have so many people there. To remind us of all the people who still lived. But I wanted them there for more than a day and the Burrow doesn't really hold that sort of number. However, luck was on our side again as Narcissa Black flooed me.

_I know there are many people who have just reason to hate the Malfoys and I am among them. But I won't hear anything of the sort. Lucius Malfoy was a monster but he has died and we need to move on rather than living in hatred. Quite frankly, however, you are welcome to hate him as much as you wish. _

_However, please don't hate Narcissa and Draco Black. Who hasn't wanted the approval of someone they loved with all their heart? Both of them have suffered under Lucius and are trying to pay back everything he did. They were key members of the Order during the war and we owe them a great deal._

Narcissa was (an still is) a very elegant woman but at that moment all that I could see was worry and pain. A mother's pain. I didn't put down my wand but I loosened my grip on it and allowed the wards to let her through.

_Oh sorry, that's a slightly odd statement. Hermione and Bill fixed the wards on out house during the war. We get a video of the person we are letting them in and some information. This lets us choose whether we want to let them in or not._

_I've never clicked no but it matters to us. The threat of needing to is still very here. _

Narcissa was in dress robes but she was wearing no makeup. Not even the not-wearing-make-up make up. Her eyes looked very blue and that was what showed me that she'd been crying. Pureblood society women know how to hide things like this but I saw too many of the kids try to put on a brave face, to miss the signs.

"I came to ask for your help. I know that my family has done enough against you and more, that you have no reason to even hear me out. I respect that and I am willing to leave now. But I want to make some of it up to you and I hope you can trust that I'm not about to curse you as we were on the same side during the war." I looked at her, without saying a word, silently wondering how I could find out what she'd done during the war.

_Don't look at me like that. I believed everything she said, I was just curious. I was a Gryffindor after all. _

"I wanted to do something for you all after all the pain I've caused. The Malfoy Manor has been a place for the Dark Arts for too long and I was hoping that you would take it. A holiday home or a hostel. Draco and I just need some of it. Please take it."

I stared at Narcissa for a moment before she broke down crying in front of me. I didn't ask why- she's far too proud to ever admit to problems- but I boiled the kettle, gave her a slice of my heartbreak antidote cake and we talked long into the afternoon.

She's been my friend ever since.


End file.
